


Everybody Loves A Fool

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request:  Imagine Jaskier is somewhere at court and a lot of people are playing with him and make a fool out of him but he plays along until the end where he proofs that he isn't a fool
Kudos: 9





	Everybody Loves A Fool

Everybody loves a fool.

Loves to mock them, loves to bed them, loves to keep them around to make themselves look better. Jaskier’s talent for performing didn’t end with the lute but this was a role he performed for an audience of one. If anyone else peeked behind the curtain, and some had come close in the past, they would see that the bright blue eyes and charming smile hid a mind just as – or, frankly, more – keen and cunning as any around him. The advantage he possessed was a taste for the fine things in life which people translated as vapid. An error he took advantage of as often as possible.

There were times he nearly told Geralt the truth. Hell, there were times he tried to but the witcher was too determined to see him one way. He focused on the times Jaskier stumbled, and admittedly those weren’t all pretend, he was only human after all. He never seemed to notice the cleverness that aided as much as it sometimes harmed.

Until the ball.

For once Geralt had been the one to lead them to the party. Usually he had to beg the witcher to come but this time he was looking for something.

“Remind me what this thingamajig you’re looking for is,” Jaskier said, running a hand through his hair one final time before heading out towards the manor.

“Don’t worry about it,” Geralt replied, as effusive as always.

“Oh come now, I could help you look for it you know,” Jaskier offered.

“You’ll serve me better by staying out of the way,” was the anticipated response. Thankfully one of the many tools Jaskier possessed was sheer stubbornness.

“What if it’s someplace you’re not able to go, hmm?” Jaskier asked, “Like a salon for entertainers only or well hidden in a corset pocket.”

“Pockets don’t have corsets.”

“Of course they do Geralt, most people just call them breasts.”

His cheeky remark was met with stony silence and a look that bordered on withering.

“What is the harm in me knowing? What if I promise not to actively go searching for it but if I happen to see it I just don’t see the point in me not KNOWING what I’m looking at and-”

“It’s a fucking amulet now will you stay out of the way and let me work?” Geralt snapped. Jaskier considered him for a moment, not a little bit frustrated himself but too smart to show it.

“What does the amulet look like?” he asked.

“Yellow stones, shape of a sun,” Geralt replied, “But Jaskier if you see it, do not touch it. Swear to me that you’ll leave it alone.”

“I won’t touch your bauble, Geralt. I’ll be too busy putting on what may be my best performance yet,” Jaskier said, doing up the buttons of his doublet and then thinking again and undoing them. Geralt grunts, satisfied for the time being that Jaskier will be distracted, and the two set off towards the manor.

The two fell into their natural pattern, orbiting around each other like planets in the heavens. Geralt traveled around the perimeter of the room while Jaskier proudly stood in the middle, performing songs that ranged from bawdy to beautiful to some strange mix of the two that could make you blush and sigh in a single breath. Jaskier wasn’t oblivious to the sneering of some of the nobles around him. Though he was technically of noble birth his choice in profession as a traveling bard wasn’t up to the standards the people here held. When he took his break to wander the room and chat up the people he’d caught giving him interested looks he heard some of the unkinder comments they made comfortably within his earshot.

“…travels with that Witcher, can you imagine?”

“…Countess de Stael finally got right of him, I can’t imagine why she kept him around for so long.”

“….o Marx should be here now that is a performer.”

Some of the words were heartfelt, others just spoken to rile him. Every now and then he saw Geralt glowering at whoever had spoken the words, but he kept to himself, still searching from the outside for the amulet. Jaskier feigned obliviousness and continued to flirt and charm the men and women who pulled him into their little cliques. Each took their turn offering backhanded compliments and making less than subtle propositions. He acted properly flustered and proud and honored and when the hostess and her lover (Jaskier had figured that out in an instant, the husband clearly hadn’t yet, ah well) crept into the library to speak they took Jaskier with him.

“Lord I will be pleased when this is all done with,” the hostess said, flopping down into a chair seated before the unlit hearth.

“When the devil are we getting on with it anyway?” the lover asked.

“What extraordinary gilding,” Jaskier said, complimenting the arch above the door. He’d learned that the best way to overhear what you clearly weren’t supposed to wasn’t to skulk about and try to make them forget you weren’t there. It was better to just make yourself seem distracted and oblivious. The hostess smiled at him like one might a particularly clever pet and then turned her attention back to her lover

“I’ve slipped it in his cloak pocket. Tomorrow when he puts it on for his morning ride he’ll pull it out and think it’s just one of my trinkets but that’s all be has to do, touch it,” she explained.

“You know when you invited me in here I rather thought we would be doing more than talking,” Jaskier said, breaking into their conversation and leveling the hostess with a seductive smile. The lover glowered but the hostess smiled sweetly at him.

“Alas, I am taken for the evening, but you will likely find others eager for your entertainment,” she said. Jaskier’s face fell a bit and then quickly recovered and he put on a big show of trying to seem unaffected. And then, adding insult to presumed injury, she pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and tossed it to him.

“To remember me by,” she said, and he snatched it up gratefully.

As he shut the door behind him he heard the lover make some comment about him, he couldn’t hear exactly what but the hostess chastised him though her voice was amused.

As soon as he closed the door behind him he was called to perform again and he did. When they asked him to perform a ballad written by Valdo Marx he saw Geralt, scanning the crowd carefully looking for the item, pause and look to him. He gave him the same look Jaskier had once given him in a similar event years ago. Unlike Geralt, his ill humor wouldn’t leave people dead and it would play into the role. So he blustered and not a little bit of genuine frustration spilled out (though deep down he knew if Valdo Marx had been there he would have been asked to perform Jaskier’s songs).

“Tell me sir bard, what is it like having one’s most celebrated work be the result of another’s greatness?” a man asked after Jaskier finished Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. Jaskier laughed, a fake, hurt laugh that made the asker smug and satisfied.

Jaskier left the hall, slinking away and stumbling a bit for good measure. As soon as he was clear of the main hall he hurried to find the kitchens. The servants paid him no mind other than to ask him brusquely to move out of their way, assuming he was running from someone or for something and not paid to worry about it either way. The stables were even easier to navigate and he made a mental note to tell Geralt never to trust Roach to a lord’s care and keeping because their stablehands were nowhere to be found, likely off playing cards or drinking. The riding cloak was where he knew it would be, hanging by the stable door of the most beautiful black horse he’d ever seen. He briefly considered stealing it but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, instead using the handkerchief the hostess had given him to pick up the amulet and deposit it into his doublet pocket, careful to wind the fabric around twice to prevent accidentally touching it. 

He was nearly back to the front of the house when he saw Geralt approaching, leading Roach.

“Ah Geralt! I got all turned around but there you go saving me again,” Jaskier said.

“Let’s go,” Geralt said.

“Yes, I agree it’s gotten quite dull,” Jaskier said. They walked together towards the road in silence until Geralt stopped and turned to face his friend.

“Why did you let them talk to you like that?” he demanded. Jaskier widened his eyes and feigned alarm.

“What? How is this my fault?” he challenged.

“That thing they said about your most celebrated work being the result of another’s greatness. You knew that was bullshit but you let them say it anyway,” Geralt said. He was angry which wasn’t new but for once he wasn’t angry at Jaskier, he was angry _for_ him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jaskier said, with more sincerity than Geralt could possibly know.

“Well the next time it happens I don’t care how hard you shake your head, I’m going to put an end to it,” Geralt said, his tone threatening and endearingly protective. Jaskier didn’t have to pretend to be bewildered.

“Well I’m sorry my personal distress was so inconvenient for you,” he replied sarcastically, fighting hard to keep the smile at bay.

“Hmm. Well it was a waste of an evening anyway. The amulet wasn’t there,” he said.

“Oh you mean this one?” Jaskier asked, producing the wrapped item from his pocket.

“I told you not to touch it, for fuck’s sake Jaskier you have no idea what you’ve done!” Geralt cried, taking the item with a gloved hand.

“I didn’t touch it, thank you very much, my skin never touched its surface,” Jaskier’s tone was insulted but he was secretly amused, knowing full well the panic he’d put Geralt through and enjoying every bit of it. Geralt scrutinized him for a moment but ultimately, seeing no overt signs of devastation or death, put the item in a sack.

“Where did you find it anyway?” he asked, climbing onto Roach as they reached the road.

“Oh you know me, Geralt,” Jaskier said with a sly smile, “I just sort of run into things.”

“Hmm.”

They walked (and rode) in silence the rest of the way back to the tavern.


End file.
